


His Best Birthday Ever

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Sherlock realizes exactly what he needs to make his birthday perfect. Sequel to Happy Birthday, Sherlock.





	His Best Birthday Ever

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by mychakk and fangirlhani on Tumblr wanting S4 Sherlolly hugs. Takes place immediately after Happy Birthday, Sherlock.

Sherlock vaguely noticed John’s departure as the other man left the cake place, his focus was completely on Molly. Specifically, on Molly’s lips as she ate her piece of his devil’s food birthday cake.

_I have never wanted to be a fork so much in my life._ Shaking his head a bit to clear it, he started on his own piece. _Delicious, but the richest chocolate I know is the color of Molly’s eyes._ His own widened slightly. _What on Earth has gotten into me? It must be the withdrawal._

Molly didn’t seem to notice where his thoughts were heading. She smiled at him. “So, I’m on babysitting duty tonight.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m thirty-six, Molly, as of,” he glanced at the clock on the wall then turned back to her, “five hours and twelve minutes ago. I don’t need a babysitter.”

She giggled. “You know what time you were born?”

“Mummy always insisted on the birthday boy blowing out his candles the minute of his birth.” He smiled a bit. “Mycroft was born just after midnight. She had to make an exception on his birthday until he was old enough to be up that late.”

Molly smiled at him fondly. “What was your favorite birthday?”

“This one,” he blurted then blushed. “Um, that is…”

She laughed softly. “But I haven’t even given you your present.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said firmly, his confidence returning. “I’m alive, I was here with two of the people who mean the most to me, though John’s run off, and I plan on having many more birthdays just like this one.” A sudden wave of sadness hit him as an image of Mary came to mind.

Molly must have seen it – she reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently. “I miss her too.”

Sherlock smiled sadly. “Mary didn’t know my exact birthday, but somehow she figured out roughly when it fell. Late last December, she gave me a new shirt. The card said, ‘From one Capricorn to another, Happy Birthday.’”

“That sounds like her. She really liked you, Sherlock.”

“And you. From what John told me, making you one of Rosie’s godmothers was Mary’s idea.”

She sighed softly. “I just wish we could’ve spent more time together. I never had a lot of female friends growing up, and I certainly don’t have many these days.”

Sherlock thought for a moment. “Now that Mary’s gone, I don’t really have any female friends.” He winced at the hurt look on Molly’s face.

“But … Mrs. Hudson-”

“Is more of a second mother to me.” He smiled weakly. “If I’m being honest, she’s more of a mother to me than my own sometimes.”

Molly nodded. “Lately, I’ve been going to her for advice, things I would’ve asked my mother if she were alive.” She smiled a bit. “Some of her advice is a bit … outrageous, but it comes from a good heart.”

“Yes,” Sherlock smiled a bit, “though lately, her questions about ‘grand-tenants’ are getting a bit … personal.”

She giggled and finished her piece of cake. Sherlock quickly finished his then they asked for a box for the rest. As soon as the cake was ready, he escorted Molly out the door. They didn’t say anything during the short walk back to Baker Street, but Sherlock knew something was weighing heavily on Molly’s mind. He kept his tongue until they were back in his flat. He followed her into the kitchen.

“Out with it, Molly,” he murmured, leaning against the counter. He had shed his Belstaff at the front door and his jacket in the sitting room.

Molly wouldn’t look at him as she put the cake in the fridge then closed the door. “It’s nothing, Sherlock.”

“Obviously not. Something’s bothering you and you are not bothered by ‘nothing.’”

She sighed heavily. “Really, Sherlock, it’s-”

Realization suddenly dawned. “This is about what I said at the cake place, about my not having any female friends left. That hurt you.”

Molly suddenly turned to him, her large brown eyes full of pain and anger. “Of course it hurt! I thought we were friends, Sherlock! After everything we’ve been through, how can you say we’re not friends?” The anger having left her, she sagged against the far counter.

He moved closer, stopping well within her personal space. She looked up at him, her big eyes widening even more with surprise.

“Sherlock?” she whispered.

“You will always be my friend, Molly Hooper,” he murmured as he gazed at her, “but I … I hoped that you would become something more, that we would become something more.”

She stared at him for five full heartbeats (Sherlock counted) then she pulled him into the biggest, most wonderful hug Sherlock had ever known. He held her just as tightly, his chin resting on her hair as she buried her face in his shirt.

“I … I thought I didn’t count,” she murmured. “That I was ‘just Molly’…”

“Did you not hear me when I said you’ve always counted? You always have, you always will.” Sherlock knew there were things they still had to talk about, things they needed to do, but he also knew those things could wait.

_Right now, I’m just going to hold my Molly for as long as she’ll let me._


End file.
